FREE VERSE

FREE VERSE – a type of poem that doesn’t follow a regular meter or rhyme scheme, but do in clued other elements of poetry.

  I'M NOT A WRITER

I'm not a writer I'm a language revolutionist.
If speaking the truth is wrong call me an oppurtunist.
I form together characters letters and words.
Comunicating with you through your relaxed spirt, pleasing ears and curious eyes.
I'm not a writer, I just have alot of feelings inside.
So I let it be known, just give me a notepad and pen.
I'm not a writer, I'm just a talent son of a gun.
I'm just concieted with my work after its done.
I represent pain and strife.
So dont have me confused with someone that writes as an occupation.
Because writing is my life.

 

ELEGY

ELEGY – a type of poem for mourning, usually for someone who has died.

A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General

"His Grace! impossible! what, dead! Of old age too, and in his bed! And could that mighty warrior fall, And so inglorious, after all? Well, since he's gone, no matter how, The last loud trump must wake him now; And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger, He'd wish to sleep a little longer. And could he be indeed so old As by the newspapers we're told? Threescore, I think, is pretty high; 'Twas time in conscience he should die! This world he cumber'd long enough; He burnt his candle to the snuff; And that's the reason, some folks think, He left behind so great a stink. Behold his funeral appears, Nor widows' sighs, nor orphans' tears, Wont at such times each heart to pierce, Attend the progress of his hearse. But what of that? his friends may say, He had those honours in his day. True to his profit and his pride, He made them weep before he died Come hither, all ye empty things! Ye bubbles rais'd by breath of kings! Who float upon the tide of state; Come hither, and behold your fate! Let pride be taught by this rebuke, How very mean a thing's a duke; From all his ill-got honours flung, Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung"

ODES

ODES – long, lyric poems that were traditionally written to celebrate a famous person or a lofty idea; and now: ordinary things.

Ode To My True Friend

by Elizabeth Pinard

 

The day I met you
I found a friend -
And a friendship that
I pray will never end.

Your smile - so sweet
And so bright -
Kept me going
When day was as dark as night.

You never ever judged me,
You understood my sorrow.
Then you told me it needn't be that way
And gave me the hope of a better tomorrow.

You were always there for me,
I knew I could count on you.
You gave me advice and encouragement
Whenever I didn't know what to do.

You helped me learn to love myself
You made life seem so good.
You said I can do anything I put my mind to
And suddenly I knew I could.

There were times when we didn't see eye to eye
And there were days when both of us cried.
But even so we made it through:
Our friendship hasn't yet died.

Circumstances have pulled us apart,
We are separated by many miles.
Truly, the only thing that keeps me going
Is my treasured memory of your smile.

This friendship we share
Is so precious to me,
I hope it grows and flourishes
And lasts unto infinity.

You are so extra-special to me
And so this to you I really must tell:
You are my one true friend,
My Guardian Angel.

Our friendship is one-in-a-million
So let's hold on to it and each other.
We cannot let this chance of pure bliss fly away
For there will never be another.

I love you.
I will always love you.

SONNETS

SONNET – a specific type of lyric poem that is always fourteen lines long and usually has a particular type of meter.

Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.